


Black Sugar

by larkingstock



Series: prompt nonsense [4]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Prompt Fic, Rory is not having it, Rory/vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkingstock/pseuds/larkingstock
Summary: Wholesome as a kitchen table.





	Black Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: **"I'm in love with your mom, oops"**
> 
>  
> 
> The prompt nonsense series: the ongoing travails of one anon's quest to reacquire their errant writing mojo, with no guarantee of consistency, continuity, compliancy, or character appreciation.

"Rory! Rory, Rory, wait!"

Oh my God _oh my God_ she cannot believe it, she can't--she stumbles, almost trips, over a tree root. It only makes her speed up blindly as Dean's long legs eat up the distance even as he wrestles his shirt wildly over his head and Rory has this insane moment of wondering if he took off the condom before pulling up his pants to chase after her.

So far he's the only one, though, because Mom--well, good ole Mom's got a few more articles of clothing to back get on before leaving the house would be a good idea. Or, or... _hell_! Maybe she should just stay on the _damn_ kitchen table!

Rory's running flat-out by now, but her student achievements never extended to include Athlete of the Year, and Dean's a freak. Oh my God Dean _is_ a freak, he's having _sex_ with her _mom_! Rory wants to throw up.

No, really, Rory _wants_ to throw up, wants some kind of sickening realization to reach up her esophagus and spew out disgust and shock, reject the whole thing from her system like so much bad chicken, and there's some small pink fluttery little-girl horror in her chest that she thinks could maybe get the job done. If only it weren't currently being torn to shreds by a rage so pure it's white-hot ice, catapaulting her right through all that oh-isn't-Rory-just-sooo-mature-for-her-age safety webbing _bullshit_ and right slam into the adulthood that comes from your parent well and truly betraying you, one grown-up to another.

Rory brakes on a dime and Dean, who by this time has just been keeping pace in an agitated and, frankly, not ashamed enough manner, takes several steps to wheel around and face her. He is, at least, red in the face, but maybe that's just biology from being interrupted mid- _fucking_. _Rory_ wouldn't know.

She feels her eyes just slide right over him, feels only a whisper of foolishness for that pink-spun-floss girl who tried so hard to be sweet, conscientious, responsible, all the things that pleased her mother because then Lorelai didn't have to be bothered with them herself. Make Rory be the Good Lorelai Gilmore so Bad Lorelai Gilmore could have an eternal free pass on the goody little two shoes of her daughter, God, she didn't even let Rory have her own _fucking_ name to herself!

"Rory, I'm so sorry," Dean is saying, and it's almost hilarious, he really looks it. He looks _chagrined_. Except...there's something not right there, and despite the rage, Rory feels something black and awful sink. And blossom, when he continues, "I...I love her. I know...it can never be okay, it was never supposed to--"

"How long," she interrupts, and this is where the unreality begins to make itself felt. Strange. It hadn't felt unreal when Rory came home from school and heard her mother moaning, or her boyfriend grunting. It hadn't felt unreal when Rory turned her head to see her mother, nearly naked, kneeling on the kitchen table with her _ass_ arched back and her _tits_ bouncing, or when Rory's eyes traveled over the face of the guy _fucking_ her from behind and confirmed that it was, indeed, her boyfriend Dean whose rubber-wrapped _dick_ was thrusting into her mother's...[...okay, _that_ word Rory might have to work up to]. It hadn't felt unreal when the screen door had banged closed behind her and their eyes had flown open and they all stood there staring at each other like a terrible R-rated movie with writer's block.

But now...it's not what they've done with their bodies. Maybe that's just still all too bizarre. Maybe Rory _is_ in shock. But _Mommy_ didn't just steal Rory's boyfriend's body, his... _cock_. She's stolen his _love_. That love had been for Rory, all for Rory. Maybe the only love that had _ever_ been all for Rory, and so of course Lorelai just had to take that, too.

Rory can only stare at him, the black disbelief uncoiling through her like tentacles, like ink in the water, as he mumbles, "A few months--only a few months! She...she wanted...When we were having those...problems. About moving too fast...?"

Rory feels cold. That was more than a few months ago. And he's been so wonderfully patient about it, since then.

"She only wanted to talk to me, I _swear_ , Rory. About waiting, until you were ready. Lorelai just wanted to protect you, that's all! She said I could talk to her, whenever I needed, and...I was so confused, Rory, and she...was so understanding..."

Rory hears a laugh that sounds like black sugar and it's her, wicked and crispy and inky twisting up every bit of sexual maturity she's just gained at such a high price, _laughing_ at him. At them. It doesn't sound like a girl who's just been humiliated and made unadored. It sounds like a young woman wise beyond her years, powerful and scornful of any who would deny her, and she really, _really_ likes it. A woman who laughs like that isn't Good Little Rory Gilmore. A woman who laughs like that could do _anything_.

Dean is staring at her, wide-eyed. He looks perturbed. _Trepidatious_. Rory _fucking loves_ it.

She narrows her eyes up at him, and it's like all his six-foot-freak-inches melt away on the spot. "Run along," she says, coldly, and just keeps _looking_ at him until he _does_. Until he just goes, like she wanted, like she _made him_ , and the _thrill_ of it...it makes her parts tingle.

Rory bites her lip. It makes her _pussy_ tingle. Okay, that'll do to start. She stands there and watches him disappear around a corner, listening to her own black sugar laugh and feeling her own pussy tingle. She wants to...wants to go break something or steal something or spraypaint her school with a message for the headmaster to go fuck himself. She wants...

... _not_ to see her mother, whose voice she can hear, arguing with Dean, and Rory knows every inch of Stars Hollow, Lorelai is never going to find her until that's what Rory wants too.

And suddenly Rory knows exactly where, and how, she wants that to be.

By the time the bell has stopped tinkling, Rory has let the tears well up just enough--anger mostly, but you'd never know it to look at her, and there's just enough little-girl need left in her that it feels real, too. Just enough, so that when she looks up with a vulnerable little catch in her throat (and that feels even more real) and her hand squeezing the strap of her schoolbag over her shoulder, the tears in her eyes threaten to spill over--and she knows she's already got him.

She reaches out, _tremulous_ , to the soft fuzz of flannel over his solid chest and when she quavers, "Luke..." her _cunt_ clenches, and that feels realest of all.


End file.
